You're Gonna Need a New Nickname
by RainyDay12
Summary: What if someone else visited Hook before our Savior? Slightly alternate ending to episode 3/22.


**A/N: Hello there, lovely reader. First, I would like to apologize for the lateness of this story. I've been busy with back school and Geometry and blah blah blah I'm rambling. Anyway, thanks to SunnyDay64 for editing. I had a lot of fun writing this story, because I love Hook and his relationship with everyone. Also because you don't get to use "Bloody hell," and "Rat bastard," everyday! I own nothing, or else everyone on the show would be 14 and going to my school. All credit goes to the brilliant writers at ABC. Happy reading!**

**YOU'RE GONNA NEED A NEW NICKNAME**

They were in the diner, celebrating. They, meaning not Hook. He was agitated. And the more he tried to figure out why he was so agitated, the more agitated he got. It was a paradox, an endless loop of misery. That was that. He was happy with being unhappy, just like he always had been.

That's why when the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin himself, his enemy for countless years, walked up to his table-far away from the festivities-, he wasn't exactly inviting.

"What the bloody hell do _you_ want?" Why be polite? He wasn't in the mood for this. "I can guess you didn't come for a drink." He threw his head back and took a long swig of rum. Rum. The one thing that never failed him.

Rumplestiltskin replied in his thick accent, voice low. "I came to apologize. And to make amends."

Hook laughed. He couldn't help it. "Maybe you already are drunk."

"I mean it. What I did was wrong."

Hook sobered a little at this. A little. "Two questions. First, there are a number of things that you've done that are incredibly wrong, so which one are you referring to? Second, what on Earth brought you to this belated epiphany? It's a little late for 'whoops', don't you think?" He gestured to his metal hand. One of the many things this bastard had taken away from him. That he tried to forget about.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Rumple replied coolly. "Your hand."

Huh. Well, this was getting interesting.

"You ask what led me to this. Bay did. I was talking to Mary Margret. And I remembered, during the year in the Enchanted Forest, Zelena had held me captive and wanted me to drink a memory potion. But I didn't." His voice broke, just a little. "At the time, Bay and I were sharing a body, me having absorbed him and all. I was in charge most of the time, though it drove me mad. But just before I could drink the potion, he took control. He took the potion, wrote a note, and sent it off on a bird. To you."

Realization hit him. It all made perfect sense.

"The message I received," slightly bewildered and even more excited. "It really wasn't from David and Mary Margret. It was from Neal." So it wasn't some big conspiracy, after all.

"Yes," Rumple answered. "It made realize that Bay trusted you. I don't know the history between you two, and I don't want to." He paused, looking Hook in the eyes for the first time that night. "And that I'm sorry. I know this doesn't even begin to make up for what I did. There was a reason you were trying to kill me for so long." Hook grinned.

"Well, a man needs a hobby." He was joking, but Rumple looked more serious than ever.

"Thank you, Hook, for giving my son a reason to trust you." And with that, he snapped his fingers, and a strange tingling sensation began at the end of Hook's arm.

He looked down, not knowing what to expect, and certainly not expecting this.

His hand.

It was back. The hook was gone, he didn't care where to, but his hand took its place. It was exactly as he remembered it. Almost an exact replica of his right one, minus the rings.

He looked up. But before he could thank or strangle the man-he had a desire to do both-Rumple was gone.

Hook (he was going to keep calling himself that, appendage or not) ran into the diner, looking for the one person who'd understand. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had no idea if she'd understand. _He_ barely understood. But she was the one person he wanted to see.

And there she was, her white-blonde hair standing out. She was carrying a heaping tray of food to a table crowded with people. He tapped her shoulder from behind.

God, she was beautiful. He stuck his hand out, palm facing upward, not knowing what else to do. She looked at the hand, then up at his face. Back to the hand. His face again. She looked pretty shocked, but only said one thing. "You're gonna need a new nickname.


End file.
